


Patience (Or Tony Stark's Missing Virtue)

by gentlesin



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, There is no plot, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlesin/pseuds/gentlesin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony tries to distract Natasha, Natasha retaliates, and the result is a mutual win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience (Or Tony Stark's Missing Virtue)

“You’re about two inches from losing that hand, Stark.”

He chuckled, the sound heavy against the shell of her ear.

“Come on, Romanoff, you’ve been at it all morning,” he said, his hand continuing its way down the front of her shoulder, dipping cautiously into the neckline of her shirt.

“And I’m almost finished,” she said, taking hold of his wrist and applying a thumb to his pressure point. A small yelp and he pulled away. “Hands off while I’m cleaning.”

She could hear his sigh as he moved, coming around to the front of the couch to look at her. His shoulders slumped forward, his lips turning down and out into that little pout she hated so much.

Her eyes narrowed, setting the disassembled and freshly treated pistol on the coffee table before picking up a revolver and dipping a cotton swab into a container of weapon grease.

“If you keep pouting at me, you won’t be getting any today at all,” she said casually, wiping the excess grease on a fresh rag.

He dropped the expression in favor of a grin. He raised his eyebrows at the couch cushion next to her, covered in magazines, bullets, and dirty rags. Natasha matched his expression and shook her head.

With a sigh, he dropped to his knees in front of her, moving closer until he could run his hands up the back of her calves.

The skin awoke under his calloused hands, but Natasha returned her attention back to the firearm in her lap. “You’d better hope I didn’t forget to unload one of these if you keep your head down there. You might just lose an eye.”

Tony scoffed. “You’re the only person I would trust with a gun around my head,” he said, fingers teasing the sensitive flesh behind her knees. “Besides, you didn’t forget. And you won’t shoot me. You love me too much.”

His grin was wide and bright, and Natasha couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“We have a lot sex, Stark,” she said, sliding the greased cotton swab into the barrel. “And occasionally it’s good enough that I pass out in your bed. Don’t go getting delusions of romance on me.”

She caught the momentary narrowing of his eyes before they started smiling, glittering at her and taking on that evil edge she’d become much too familiar with.

“Whatever you’re planning, it’s a bad idea, Stark.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. His hands slid up from her calves, over her thighs until they met the junction of her hip. She stilled, looking down at him in warning. He smirked, ran his thumbs over the cotton seam. “I happen to have it on good authority that you’re a huge fan of what I’m planning.” His hands continued up under her shirt and wrapped his fingers around her waist. “Besides, I want my shirt back.”

She met his smirk, looking down at his hopeful expression, and set the revolver carefully on the cushion next to her. She capped the grease, and moved her hands to the first button.

“You want your shirt back?” she asked, adding a touch of coyness to her voice as she started undoing them, one at a time, tracing the neckline as it moved lower and lower.

His eyes locked on each revealed inch of her chest, nodding like a eager child who’d just been offered his first taste of ice cream. She bit her lip, pulling it in as she unhooked the last button. Dragging the sleeves over her arms, she made sure to expose her chest forward as she freed herself of the garment, watching him watch her with hungry eyes.

She balled the fabric and threw it over his head. He groaned, rocking back onto his heels and falling away from her.

“Come back in an hour, Stark,” she said, laughing at him. “Then you can make good on your promises.”

“Maybe in an hour, I won’t want to,” he grumbled, lifting himself to his feet and padding out of the room.

Natasha went back to work. Cleaning her weaponry was a weekly task to keep them in top shape. It kept her prepared, ready, and safe. It also gave her a few hours of methodical work to lose herself in, to let her thoughts flow and reorganize and settle. It was her way of meditating.

As she spun the barrel in her hand, making sure the oil coated evenly on the mechanism, she heard it. A moan, quiet but audible, and a low groan that followed the sound right down to her toes.

Looking over her shoulder, she narrowed her eyes at the hallway that lead to Tony’s master suite. She knew that groan. Knew the moans that kept coming, too.

‘Get up here and fuck me, Stark.’

A warm flush rolled over her skin, and she looked up at the speaker in the ceiling, feeling equally impressed and infuriated. That rat bastard.

Taking a breath and licking her lips, Natasha turned her determination to finishing her task. The gasp that came through the loud speaker reverberated inside her, reminding her body of the motions that made her sound like that and stringing tight those muscles that ran from hip to hip. He was teasing her from afar.

“Jarvis, is that what I think it is?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

“If you think it is Mister Stark watching the recording you two made on February the twenty-third of this year, then you would be correct, Miss Romanoff.”

Natasha let out a long, even breath. Her heart rate was elevated, her body tense. Her bare skin prickled and puckered in the cool air, and she wasn’t unconvinced that Stark hadn’t turned up the A/C just to make that happen.

She moved the grease to the table, followed by a stack of loaded magazines. The moans got louder, her own voice needy and breathless as it played throughout the floor. Natasha felt her body clench, felt a war between frustration with his impatience and pride that he would be so devious to use that tape against her.

Well… To be fair, she’d used making it against him, too. Not that he’d put up much a fight when she suggested it.

Her steps were silent as she padded down the hall. She moved slowly, sliding along the hardwoods, intentionally stepping over the one board that liked to creak. The screen was visible before she could see Tony himself, but there he was in high definition, sliding in and out of her at just the pace she liked, making her mewl and whine, if only because she knew it got him off.

She knew she wasn’t going to need much convincing once she got inside the bedroom, but she wasn’t letting him win this easily. Tony might like to play dirty, but Natasha had invented the game. Time to remind him of it.

When she pushed open the door, her plan almost went out the window as quickly as her breath left her body. Tony lay naked, sprawled out on the bed, arc reactor casting a faint blue glow as he held himself in his hand. Long lines of muscle on dark green sheets, the sight of him confirmed that the video tape hadn’t been doctored for size. His eyes flicked to hers when he saw her, squeezing gently on the upstroke and tipping his head back, exposing his neck.

She wanted to bite it, to straddle him and take him inside her and remind him why he shouldn’t tease her.

She stalked forward. She could see the moment his body responded to her stance, his pupils dilating, cheeks flushing, chest heaving quickly. One knee at a time, she lifted herself onto the end of the bed. Starting at his feet, she crawled over him, keeping herself low and letting her chest drag along his legs as she moved. Stopped only when her knees were settled between his, one hand bracing herself in front of him.

“You’re impatient today,” she said, catching his bottom lip between her teeth. He hissed, but his hips lifted and pressed toward her. She used her free hand to push him back down and released his lip.

“I’m always impatient,” he said, cupping her breast. He passed thumb over her sensitive flesh and she caught hold of his wrist, bringing it up to her face and placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the skin there.

“Well, I guess we need to work on that, don’t we?” she purred, letting go of his arm and slowly dragging the pads of her fingers over his chest, swirling one around the scarred skin at the center, down over his abs. Last, she settled it firmly where he wanted it most. She watched with an open smile as his eyes fluttered closed, head dropping back into the multitude of pillows.

She worked slow, gentle strokes with just the right amount of pressure. She wanted to keep him on the edge of arousal without building it. She nipped at his jaw, ran her tongue along his Adam’s apple, ghosted her fingers across his inner thigh. Tony’s muscles rippled under her touch, his core contracting tight to lift his shoulders and head off of the bed, arms reaching to pull her closer. She squeezed her legs together and the pressure was just enough to make her share his desire.

“Watch the screen, Tony,” she purred into his ear, teasing the lobe with the tip of her tongue. His eyes opened wide, the irises almost exclusively black, and she could feel the thump of his heartbeat in her hand.

“I need more,” he said, breathless in her ear. “Can’t watch that while you’re barely touching me. Get up here.”

“No.”

His head flopped back with a groan.

“Tony,” she said sternly, a warning. “Watch the screen.”

She waited until his head was forward again, his eyes back open. Once she had his attention, she slid down his body and ran a flat tongue along the V at his hips. They jerked off the bed and she chuckled.

“Careful, Stark,” she teased. “If you put an eye out, this’ll be over before it starts.”

“Fuck that,” he said. “I’ll get you an emerald eye patch when we’re done. You’re not going anywhere right now.”

She smirked up at him, held his eyes as she gave a slight pucker to her lips, loosened her jaw, and took him into her mouth.

The sound that ripped from his throat made her blood sing with self-satisfaction.

She’d never understood the idea that this was ‘degrading’ to women. Watching Tony squirm under every swipe of her tongue, every hollowing of her cheeks…. She had him exactly where she wanted him, and held every ounce of the power. The fear and arousal in his eyes when she teased at him ever so gently with her teeth made that abundantly clear. She loved hearing the sounds he made, the tremor that ran through his body when she played with the ridge at the tip. His sounds went straight through her and she doubled her efforts, feeling a warm dampness start to settle between her legs. She had him dangling by a thread with no intention of letting him go.

When she felt he’d had enough, when her jaw took on that familiar ache from being open for too long, when his hands started to fist in the bed sheets so tightly he threatened to rip them, she lifted her head. His eyes were wild, dark and fast and heavy, all control abandoned as she’d worked him into a state of near-torturous arousal.

She bit her lip when he moved for her, lifting himself and grabbing at her, all rushed movements and shaking hands. His chest heaved and his arms shook, but he was firm when he held her. He took a nipple roughly into his mouth, sucked at it for a moment before locking his teeth around it and she caught a fistful of his hair in her hand.

“Play nice now, Tony,” she said, chastising him even as she moaned when he repeated the action.

“Fuck you,” he growled against her skin.

“I’m hoping you will….”

He was pulling at her in an instant. She let him, helping to lay herself down as he moved to straddle her, settle himself between her legs and working his way down her body with teeth and tongue.

“Why do you still have these on?” he asked, exasperated when he ran into the cotton barrier. His hands pulled them down and she answered by lifting her hips. The cool air caused her to shiver, but it was immediately remedied by the encompassing warmth of Tony’s mouth.

Her arms went up over her head, fisting into a pillow and dragging it closer so she could sink her teeth into it. She could draw nothing but fast, heavy breaths, moving against him as he alternated flicking his tongue and giving her slow, languid strikes with the flat of it.

Left to her own devices, she was fairly quiet, but she knew Tony liked to hear her approval, and so let her mouth fall open. A moan worked its way out as he added a deft hand to the stimulation, rubbing small, firm circles right where she needed it. Her nails dug series of crescents into his shoulder blades, trying to coax him upward while anchoring herself against him. When she felt two fingers slide inside her and press up just so, her back came up off the bed, arching and pleading and cursing him all at once. Her moans came louder, more freely as he continued to move.

“Faster,” she said, demanding him as she bucked her hips. He complied and she scrunched her eyes shut, squeezing down around his fingers. He knew she liked it rough and he was unforgiving, curving his fingers to hit that same spot over and over until starbursts exploded behind her eyes. Every muscle in her body clenched and released, Tony not relenting until she was threatening to yank out his hair, expletives and threats dropping freely from her tongue.

Her head fell back into the pillows, but he was lifting her hips and turning her over before she had a chance to come back down.

“At attention, Romanoff, I’m not done with you.”

She gave a light moan in protest, one that fell into a lazy grin as he positioned himself behind her. She planted her hands, curved her spine and pressed back against him. He entered her slowly and she dropped to her forearms. They both groaned and she rested her head as he stilled, giving her a moment to adjust. It wasn’t long before she was arching her back, encouraging him to move.

He started slow, always did, as if he was savoring every inch, every bit of her. His gaze was hot on her spine, and she could feel it like a palpable burn as his hands took to her hips, pulling and moving and caressing her. She tightened her core, squeezing him inside her, and dragged a long, broken moan from somewhere inside him.

His nails scratched down her spine as he set a quicker rhythm, grabbing for the few curls still sitting there.

“Flip your hair back,” he said, “so I can fuck you proper.”

She whipped her head around to glare at him, but the glare gave way to heated hunger as she caught sight of his face, all flush and concentration and jaw-dropping pleasure. Dropping her head, she flicked it up quickly, lifting one arm to help pile it on her back. Tony had his hands in it within seconds, wrapping it around his hand twice to get a solid hold.

Once he had it, he let go, giving her the hard, rough pounding she wanted as he held her back with her hair. She felt the sweat start to bead on her forehead as she moved against him, causing her hands to slide on the silk sheets. Damn Tony and his expensive tastes.

It wasn’t long before she was thanking whatever deities may be that women were made for multiples, moaning and clenching and forcing herself back against him as best she could. Her hand slipped out from under her, sliding along the sheets until the heel of her palm hit the nightstand. She grunted at the sudden pain, winced when she heard the resounding crash, but the lovely throb inside her negated the consequences.

“Shit,” she mumbled into the sheets, keeping her chest low so her arms didn’t slip again. It forced Tony to release her hold as he tilted his head, trying to survey the damage.

“The fuck, ‘Tasha?” he asked, not stopping, but the frustration clear in his voice. “That was Ming!”

“Who keeps a $30,000 relic in the bedroom when they’re trying to fuck?!” she asked in return.

“Try $46,000, sweetheart,” he said, accentuating the words by pulling her hips back to meet his in quick, rough movements. “It was mint.”

“Well,” she said, gasping a breath between her words. “You’re gonna have to reduce the price on the resell.”

“Bitch.”

He pulled out from inside her with a quick movement that left her gasping. She tried to release the tension in her hips, moving to shake out her legs, but Tony was already pulling at her again. Lying himself back on the bed, he gave the silent request for her to straddle him. She let him move her, resting her knees on either side of his body, feeling his insistent hardness poking her from underneath.

His expression was smug,, the mouse who got the cheese, elated and satisfied and ready for more. But as he moved to position himself under her, Natasha smirked, shaking her head and moving his hand so she could hold him herself.

“You know how this works, Stark,” she said. “You want me on top, you lay back and get what I give.”

He did release his grip on her, collapsing against the mattress, but his jaw was still slack, eyes hungry.

“Natasha, I need you,” he said, pleading with her.

“You’ll have me,” she promised. “Relax.”

She gave him an A for effort, considering how hard and tight every muscle was strung in his body. Her hips rolled against him, sliding along his length, rubbing herself on him. He pressed up, trying to increase the friction, but she lifted her hips and gave him only what she wanted to.

He might protest that he hated the teasing, but she knew better. He never slept better, more soundly, than after she’d wrung him out nice and slow. Taking a firm hand at the base, she positioned him and sunk down, but only just a bit, feeling the head of him inside her and stilling before he could get any more.

“What is this, high school?” Tony asked, voice high pitched and needy. “Are we playing ‘just the tip?’”

She smiled down at him, squeezing her muscles around what she had of him.

“I love feeling you slowly, Tony,” she told him, squeezing again and moving up. “Every inch of you.” She dropped just a little lower, her head falling back as she did so. His hands came up to her breasts and she let him play, moving up and down in a steady rhythm, building his pressure and her own until she finally sunk down on top of him and her body met his.

His head flopped back and she leaned forward, sliding a hand under his head to lift it and catch his lips with her own. She moved as she kissed him, their breaths mingling together and his fingers pressing into her back. Her knees gave her just the leverage she needed to bounce gently on top of him, adding a roll and quick jerk to the top of her movement before sliding herself all the way back down.

His hands became greedy, moving over her before settling on her hips. She could see the need in the crease of his brow, his eyes locked onto her body, watching her react to him. Grinding into his pelvis, she found the pressure she needed and began to feel the build once more.

He was close, she knew it, and abandoned her teasing to give him exactly what he wanted. She moved fast, hard, riding him thoroughly in all the ways she knew he loved. She scratched her nails down his chest, over a nipple, threw her hair over her shoulders and exposed her breasts to him.

When his hands became vices on her hips, moans increasing in pitch and volume, she worked him harder, tipping her own head back and squeezing around him as she felt him hot and wet within her.

Her movements slowed, came to a still, and she let herself fall onto his chest. The arc reactor was bright to her eyes, but buzzed quiet in her ear as she laid there, letting the sweat evaporate and cool off her body.

Tony was boneless underneath her, taking deep breaths to bring oxygen back to his person. When she pulled off of him, he grimaced, but threw out an arm for her to pillow on as she settled herself.

“You shouldn’t try and tease me, you know,” she said, planting her head on his bicep and curling her arm underneath her. At some point, the video had finished, and a dark screen with a bright green ‘VIDEO1’ flashed at them. “I always win.”

“If this is my punishment, then I have no problem admitting defeat.”

She smiled, resting a hand on his chest. “You remember that next time.”

His arm curled around her, fingers tracing of the curve of her shoulder. “So was it good enough for you to pass out in my bed again?”

She blinked with heavy eyes, knowing she should stay awake, but she watched Tony’s flutter shut and figured a nap wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Good,” he mumbled, turning his head and closing his eyes to sleep. “Knew you loved me.”

“I will gut you with a shattered Ming, Stark.”

“Love you, too, Romanoff.”

She let her eyes close with a small grin and the fading thought that maybe the win was best shared between them.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired when I said I needed to get back into writing smut after nearly five years.
> 
> "You want some ironwidow porn, is that what you're saying?"  
> "Baby, you know me so well."
> 
> And thus is work was born.
> 
> I should also note that this is not one of my usual pairings, so I can't promise more Tony/Nat in the future. But we'll see. :)


End file.
